


if it makes you happy

by multicorn



Category: Glee
Genre: Episode Related, Frottage, Hand Jobs, M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2013-03-12
Updated: 2013-03-12
Packaged: 2017-12-05 02:39:37
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,747
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/717910
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/multicorn/pseuds/multicorn
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Kurt and Blaine meet up before the wedding-that-wasn't in "I Do."  Dorky flirty not-quite-accidental seduction, sex, angst, and a little bit of friendship.</p>
            </blockquote>





	if it makes you happy

**Author's Note:**

> Written for Project: NAGERTUTWP [not a good enough reason to use the word penetrate] over on tumblr

When Kurt sees Blaine again in Lima his skin feels like it’s  _buzzing_.  They’d seen each other at Christmas of course, for two quiet strained days and one confused and delirious night; they’ve been talking over the phone sometimes, although more of that is text messages than actual talking, but they’re both trying to be careful and you never really can tell, can you, what’s going on at the other end of the line.

Blaine looks so good when he rings the doorbell to Kurt’s house - better than he has in a long time, with a ridiculous leather jacket and tight pants and a  _hat_ , and Kurt can’t help noticing the new muscles on his arms but it’s more than that.  All the worry that’s inhabited his face for months and months has disappeared.  His smile is wide and happy and he looks confident again, and Kurt never has been able to resist him like this, not for long.  “You look like a rock star,” he says, remembering the Warblers, and if his eyes go wide as marbles and his mouth drops open he can’t help it.  He’s gotten used to flirting with attractive guys sometime between when he met Blaine and now, and Blaine undoubtedly is attractive.

”I was playing Freddie Mercury in Glee the other day,” Blaine says, pushing off the doorpost to step inside.  “I take it you approve?”  He heads up the stairs to Kurt’s room without waiting for an invitation, and Kurt swallows and stares at the star made of studs on his back as his feet follow the old path without thinking.

“I can’t believe I’m saying this about an outfit that pairs giant rivets with a tank top, but yes, you somehow do manage to pull it off.”

Blaine swings open the door to his rom, and Kurt realizes they need a distraction.  He hasn’t been here since he came to see Grease, and he was too raw to take any of their pictures down then.  Some are still standing on his shelves, and of course Blaine’s seen them before, but suddenly he feels the urge to hide them and there’s absolutely no time.  “Will you sing something for me?”

“Sure.”  Blaine puts down his messenger bag next to Kurt on the bed, and now that it’s off the outfit seems a little more balanced, but also a little more obviously fake.  “I was thinking we’d pick out a duet for a wedding, but if you want to have a little concert first, then I can sing, and then  _you_  can sing for  _me_ …”

“I’m not sure if you’re ready to hear the winner of NYADA’s Midnight Madness,” Kurt says and Blaine laughs.

“I’m proud of you, Kurt, but you’ve been saying that for days and you still haven’t sung me anything.  Would you like to -?”

“Well, it wouldn’t count over the phone anyway,” Kurt says.  “But no.  You first.”  Blaine’s shuffling through the papers on the bed - sheet music, of course, it’s always music with them - and he’s making the mattress shake underneath Kurt where he’s sprawled on it, and it’s been so long.  It’s not that they haven’t spent plenty of time here just singing or talking or watching TV before, of course they have.  But it feels like it’s been years, maybe, since he wanted to jump Blaine and couldn’t.

Blaine picks a song and moves to the foot of the bed and takes his raspberry-scented warmth away, and Kurt shivers and sits up straight.   _This thing, called love, I just can’t handle it_ , Blaine sings, and Kurt thinks well, isn’t that on point.  But Blaine keeps singing, and he keeps watching, and all other thoughts fly out of his mind.  Blaine is jumping around, grinning and swinging his hips, smirking over his shoulder on  _he drives me crazy_ , and Kurt feels crazy too right now, he’s hot and cold all over, because he’s heard Blaine sing and he’s seen him dance but he’s never looked this  _cool_  before.  With a final whooped  _thing called love_  Blaine slides to his knees in front of Kurt as the song ends, and looks up panting.  “What do you think?”

“Wow,  _Blaine_.”  Kurt shakes his head and laughs.  “I don’t think I’ve seen you that… energetic in quite a while.”

Blaine’s leaning closer, “what can I say, you always did inspire me,” he says, and he reaches up to curve his palm into the dimple of Kurt’s waist, and it’s as if this connection has never been broken, he knows and remembers the breaking of the blood in his heart but somehow their flesh is still one.

Kurt grabs his face and kisses him.

He can’t help it.  Blaine’s right there and so alive and Kurt knows he wants him too.  But he tries to be good; he realizes what he’s done and he tries to pull back.  Blaine lets go of his lower lip with a sigh.  “Are we together again?”

“No.”  Kurt breathes in, out, in, their faces so close but he doesn’t move in to kiss Blaine again.  Does’t know if he should.

“But you do want this?” Blaine asks, breathless, and his eyes are shining.  “Me?”

“Always,” says Kurt, and it’s not the whole story but it’s true, he could never lie like this and apparently he can’t stop wanting Blaine, not when he’s in front of him not like a stranger or a shade anymore but himself and whole, and he can’t hold back from his own desire even if maybe he should, not in the face of Blaine’s too.  So he whispers, “come up here,” and Blaine  _leaps_ , and they’re collapsed on the bed and Kurt’s legs are tangled under him and Blaine’s off-balance on his lap and half-falling off.  There’s something in the feel and scent of it, or the sound of the blood beating hard in his veins, or the sight of the wide tremulous grin that’s splitting Blaine’s face, or maybe it’s the potent combination, that makes him feel more alive, too, than he has in months and months and maybe over a year, before New York or NYADA or any of it, when it was just him and Blaine and a bed and their little world was something to hide in and not run away from.  Maybe this is what Blaine’s feeling too.  “Can I touch you?”

“Ugh,  _please_ ,” says Blaine, “do you know how frustrating it is that there’s only straight boys at our school, I was even starting to get a crush on  _Sam_.”

“He’s not too bad,” laughs Kurt, between kisses, “but off, off,” and he’s pushing at the waistband of Blaine’s pants without even trying to undo the belt and it’s not working of course but the desperation that’s making him do everything wrong is so hot he’s not even trying to fix it.

“Let me,” says Blaine, and he rolls off Kurt onto his side, keeping their legs still entwined as Kurt straightens his out.  Kurt watches him hungrily as he unfastens his belt and his zipper and pushes his pants and his boxers down together to midthigh, and forgets to do anything.  Just seeing Blaine like this is so good; he doesn’t know why, he can’t think, but he can feel in the itching of his hands that no one else can ever compare.  “Come on,” Blaine says, and it’s probably meant to be impatient but the only thing he can hear is tender and playful and the teasing tickle of Blaine’s breath in his ear.

“Come  _back_ ,” Kurt says, tugging, but Blaine doesn’t let himself be moved.

“I will,” he says, with a sucking kiss to the side of Kurt’s neck, “just as soon,” and a kiss further down, “as you,” and he licks flat and wide right up the underside of Kurt’s chin and Kurt sucks in a sudden breath, “take off your pants.”

“Okay,” says Kurt, and he’s giddy with it, everything that they’re falling back into, “okay.”  He gets up and shucks them quickly, and his shirt too, because he knows how this goes, and he wants as much skin touched as he can get.  He climbs back onto the bed and straight onto Blaine.  He settles against him, holding his hips down with the weight of his body through his thighs, and he can feel Blaine’s hard cock bobbing up against his ass when he tilts backwards.  His own cock is rubbing against the scratchy surface of Blaine’s tank top, so he pulls it up, and oh, Blaine’s skin is slick with sweat and heaven.

“Mmm, so good,” he hears Blaine murmur, and he’s glad they agree.

He stares at the slight roundness of Blaine’s stomach and bends down to lick it,  pushes Blaine’s shirt further up his chest and bites down on the delicious cut of muscle.  It tastes like everything he needs.

“I want to kiss you,” Blaine says, voice slurred and heavy, and the hands on his shoulders are caressing not pulling but he collapses flat onto Blaine’s body and creeps upwards anyway.  His lips fall against the enticing stubble on Blaine’s cheek but Blaine turns his head and kisses him, mouth to mouth and it should be resuscitation but it feels like he’s drowning so he opens his mouth wider and lets it happen, and nudges his cock into Blaine’s down below.

“I want more,” he says, and Blaine’s hand comes down to hold onto him and press him against the solid steel of Blaine’s own cock too and the incredibly soft slight give of skin and it feels perfect, perfect, perfect, there has never been anything more perfect than this.  He grunts, and works his hips into it, and works his own hand between their bodies to get to touch Blaine’s perfect cock too and he doesn’t think even the first time coordination has ever been this hard.  When he gets his hand around Blaine’s shaft at last and his thumb is brushing the head, he thinks crazily,  _at last my arm is complete again_ , but Blaine’s wrist moving against his fingers and Blaine’s cock burning hot now, so close to his, make him want nothing more but  _now_  and  _closer_  and  _forever_ , and he comes with a sudden shout between their bodies.

Blaine grabs his face with one hand and claims his lips again, and he wraps his other hand around Kurt’s on his cock, pulling and tugging hard, harder for a minute until he’s coming too, and they’re both breathing hard and Kurt’s plastered onto Blaine’s chest, lying in between the flaps of his still not removed leather jacket, as if he never wanted to move again.

He lifts his head, and blinks.  Where is he now.

“Well, that was fun,” Blaine says, and Kurt looks at him for a clue, and it’s true.  He’s smiling, relaxed, even his eyes are sliding into a tired-out grin.

“It was,” Kurt agrees, and the smile on his own face is softer, and he rolls off Blaine’s body to the side.  Not cuddling, just close.

~*~

After Blaine’s gone back to his own house for the night - after more songs, and dinner, and an attempt to watch a movie that was interrupted by both round two and round three, and a reluctantly closed door - Kurt curls up in his bed that’s been restored to the scent of both of them again, and tries to think.

He can’t think when Blaine’s around anymore, that’s clear enough.

But he doesn’t want to stop.  He doesn’t think that he has to, right, Blaine clearly still wants it too, and barring that - it feels so good.  It feels right, and easy, and few enough things in his life are all of the above that he doesn’t want to let go of something that is.

He thinks for the first time in hours of Adam waiting in New York but - he’s not waiting.  They’re not exclusive, they said so (he said so), even if Adam’s face might have looked disconcertingly like a crushed puppy’s when he did -

That’s not what he cares about anyway, if he’s going to be honest with himself.  He cares about Blaine.  Because if they’re still friends - and they are, he thinks fiercely, he may have lost Blaine as the love of his life but he is  _never_  letting his friendship with him go - then he needs to be careful of that.  And this fire that’s still in his skin is anything but careful.

Did he do the wrong thing, should he stop?

He lies in his bed, flat on his back and hands fisted at his sides, because he can’t let himself touch anything, now is not the time to be distracted.  He has to think.  He couldn’t keep his hands off Blaine earlier today and - it’s not just some sort of ‘forbidden fruit’ effect, and if it had been that should’ve disappeared anyway, after round one.  It’s not just that it’s been a long time, he’s had Adam, and maybe there is no one else like Blaine (and he feels vaguely traitorous for thinking all these things, but traitorous to whom, he can’t tell), it’s just…

_Blaine_  wasn’t like this, before, either.  Not in New York at Christmas or in October, not in Lima in September before he went to New York or in the summer or even, he thinks if he’s going to be honest, the spring.  Blaine looks so alive now, and happy, and irresistible and Kurt can hardly keep from wanting even when he’s just seeing his face in his mind again but…  Blaine hadn’t looked like this, before, in a long time.

What’s changed.

Well.  He’s broken up with Blaine.  And that was a few months ago, but now maybe Blaine’s finally at the point where he’s gotten over it, and he’s okay, and he’s happy.  And Kurt feels  _sick_.  Because if Blaine’s like this now when they’re not together - if he’s happy, confident, Blaine Warbler, captain of a group of boys again - then what was he  _doing_.  All those months, asking  _are you okay_  over and over like banging his head on a locker and yes he does know what that feels like for real - when all Blaine ever needed, to look and feel and just be like this, was to be let  _go_.

Kurt’s going to cry.

The sobs that wrack his body feel like claws, tearing through him from the inside out, and he curls up instinctively but there’s no defense when what’s trying to kill him is inside.  This isn’t as bad as his father almost dying.  It might be worse than Blaine cheating on him, he’s not sure.  But that’s the scale.  Only there’s one thing different, because this time, for real, everything that’s happened is  _his fault_ , and he’s never been stripped of that last defense before, he’s always at least been able to wish that the pain would go away.  Now all he can do is cry, and cry, and wish with all his heart that Blaine’s happiness now without him will one day be enough to make up for the pain he’s unthinkingly caused.

~*~

He meets Blaine again in the morning at the Lima Bean for a pre-wedding cup of coffee.  In the cold hard light of day he doesn’t know if any of his worries from the preceding night are true; he doesn’t want to face them again, and doesn’t know how to ask, and when Blaine smiles at him bright and open over a cup of coffee again he just falls a little bit more in love.

But hold that thought.

Because he doesn’t know who Blaine is, apparently, and he doesn’t know who he is either.  The Blaine he’d known was happy and sad and then happy again without him even realizing the depth of the change until it was too late; the Kurt he’d known would never have sex with someone he wasn’t in love with and, well.  Take a look at his  _life_.

“Do you want to practice before the wedding?” he asks Blaine instead, and Blaine looks at him with their old shared secret smile, traces a finger over his hip where it’s turned against the counter and bites his lip to keep from laughing.

“Yeah, let’s  _practice_ ,” he says, and Kurt feels himself give into the pull again.  Not talking, just being, and he doesn’t know how to be any other way.

“My car or yours?”


End file.
